Recovery
Professor Dumbledore says that history travels in circles. I say that history is like a broken record playing the same song over and over again. It skips, the record is scratched and worn with age, gets stuck in the same place over and over again and you can hear the same melody floating softly through time. The only reason that we don't catch on to this is because occasionally the record skips a generation or our kin skirt, lie and embroider over the truth, until the circle becomes less of a circle and more a piece of modern art. A tapestry of life. Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore is a Seer. It's not like I have any proof it's just that he seems to set things so precisely for me that even if I think that I'm figuring it out for myself somewhere deep down I know that somehow he's had a hand in this. Take, for instance this assignment that he's given all of the seventh years. It practically screams "Harry learn more about your family tree." Like when Guenivere Weasley, my girlfriend, happens to find in one of the many documents that Dumbledore has given us that Sirius had been adopted into the Potter line when my father and he were seven. Or that on top of Arabella Figg being my godmother and Sirius' fiancée, that she is also a second cousin once removed on my Father's side. Or that on the adoption certificate for Sirius it reads Maternal Grandparents - Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall making Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall not only a couple, but my fraternal great- grandparents as well. Oh and there is that small matter of my parents Lily and James Kempton - Potter being alive and well and living in Canada for the past sixteen years. I have been denied the family I so longed for just for a little extra security. Well damn my security! Who has the goddamn right to deny me of the family and love which I rightfully deserve. Eleven years in hell, all for nothing. A decade's worth of abuse and torment, all of which could have been avoided. Most of my life spent under the bloody stairs. All those years I'll never get back. I have not more tears to cry.
*~*
Master Malfoy, one of the richest, purest blooded wizards in the world today. The man I most admire is also the object of my loathing. In the way that he looked at other people, even my mother, who he really was shone through. My father, the Death Eater. I try to tell myself that he got what he deserved, and he did deserve to go to Azkaban, after all it was by his wand that my mother, rest her soul, died. But he is still the one who raised me. In six days he will no longer be my father, in six days he will receive the Dementor's Kiss, one of the last ones ever to be given, and I will be rid of him. Nevertheless, he is still my father. The Daily Prophet called him the man of many names. Lucius Malfoy, right hand man of the Dark Lord, He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named, Scum of Scums, Ex- School Governor, Ex-Ministry of Magic official, but they missed one, the man who loved and raised a son. He was Lucius Malfoy, the man I loved. Yes, I, Draco Malfoy loved him greatly, and for that I will never forgive him. That is why I have decided to end my life now by my own means, because without him and my mother I would die unloved and without a mourner, but if I die now he, my father, the one who raised me, will mourn and love me. For six days at least.
*~*
I never liked the smell of blood. It reminds me of the Cruciatus curse and my parents sacrifice for me. It's funny actually; I've never smelt blood at Hogwarts before now. The stench seems to grow stronger as I near the Girls Bathroom on the Second floor. Trickles of a thick red substance flow under the heavy oak door in a tiny constant stream. Then it hits me. The smell of blood, red substance flowing across the floor. Taking a deep breath I push the heavy door and enter the bathroom, sterile, clean, and surprisingly empty, I note. Then I see him, Draco Malfoy, sprawled on the floor unconscious, his wrists cut in large vertical slashes, lying in a pool of his own bright red blood. I can't think, I can breath I feel helpless and frozen, its like the war all over again, so I do what I, the cowardly brat did so many times during the battles, I cry for help.
*~*
Ron, that's another thing that bothers me. His betrayal seems so eerie, so unlike him. Maybe his jealously was really that deep. Maybe he hated not being in the spotlight that much. I just can't help but think that even with all solid evidence pointing towards his betrayal that maybe he was like Sirius, in a way. Good Lord, Moaning Myrtle is at it again, I have a right mind to go throw one of Hermione's books at her. Funny though, it doesn't really sound like Myrtle. Oh gods I bet its Gwen. What! Malfoy and Neville! Why is Malfoy lying in a pool of blood? Oh God I don't even care. It may be Malfoy but he's still dying. Oh I wish Neville weren't so useless. Malfoy is a load of bones. Only a little further, there. What does Pomfrey mean by what have you done this time! Must I be blamed for everything? Urgh! I might as well leave, Malfoy doesn't concern me. What's that? Oh Gwen, why can't you see the fault in Ron? Even lying there unconscious he's hurting you. All those bruises aren't yours. Why can't things be simple, black and white why must it all be so complicated and gray?
*~*
Damn Parvati! She could be a veela with all that bloody charm. Seamus, she says, I haven't seen Hermione since Dinner last night and I'm worried, please go look for her. Then as if to seal the deal she bats those full lashes and blows me a kiss. So here I am looking for Hermione Granger, who, as I have learned in the past few days, is bloody wonderful at hide and seek. I've never realized how large the library is until now. I think I've looked just about everywhere and have yet to see even a hair off her bushy head. Oh, there she is. If I had a Knut for every time I've found her asleep on one of her bloody books in the past week I'd be a very rich man. Hermione, oh don't do this, I don't have all bloody day. Hermione. for the love of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She's screamed that bloody traitor's name again. Just let the poor fool die!
Professor Dumbledore says that history travels in circles. I say that history is like a broken record playing the same song over and over again. It skips, the record is scratched and worn with age, gets stuck in the same place over and over again and you can hear the same melody floating softly through time. The only reason that we don't catch on to this is because occasionally the record skips a generation or our kin skirt, lie and embroider over the truth, until the circle becomes less of a circle and more a piece of modern art. A tapestry of life. Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore is a Seer. It's not like I have any proof it's just that he seems to set things so precisely for me that even if I think that I'm figuring it out for myself somewhere deep down I know that somehow he's had a hand in this. Take, for instance this assignment that he's given all of the seventh years. It practically screams "Harry learn more about your family tree." Like when Guenivere Weasley, my girlfriend, happens to find in one of the many documents that Dumbledore has given us that Sirius had been adopted into the Potter line when my father and he were seven. Or that on top of Arabella Figg being my godmother and Sirius' fiancée, that she is also a second cousin once removed on my Father's side. Or that on the adoption certificate for Sirius it reads Maternal Grandparents - Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall making Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall not only a couple, but my fraternal great- grandparents as well. Oh and there is that small matter of my parents Lily and James Kempton - Potter being alive and well and living in Canada for the past sixteen years. I have been denied the family I so longed for just for a little extra security. Well damn my security! Who has the goddamn right to deny me of the family and love which I rightfully deserve. Eleven years in hell, all for nothing. A decade's worth of abuse and torment, all of which could have been avoided. Most of my life spent under the bloody stairs. All those years I'll never get back. I have not more tears to cry.
*~*
Master Malfoy, one of the richest, purest blooded wizards in the world today. The man I most admire is also the object of my loathing. In the way that he looked at other people, even my mother, who he really was shone through. My father, the Death Eater. I try to tell myself that he got what he deserved, and he did deserve to go to Azkaban, after all it was by his wand that my mother, rest her soul, died. But he is still the one who raised me. In six days he will no longer be my father, in six days he will receive the Dementor's Kiss, one of the last ones ever to be given, and I will be rid of him. Nevertheless, he is still my father. The Daily Prophet called him the man of many names. Lucius Malfoy, right hand man of the Dark Lord, He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named, Scum of Scums, Ex- School Governor, Ex-Ministry of Magic official, but they missed one, the man who loved and raised a son. He was Lucius Malfoy, the man I loved. Yes, I, Draco Malfoy loved him greatly, and for that I will never forgive him. That is why I have decided to end my life now by my own means, because without him and my mother I would die unloved and without a mourner, but if I die now he, my father, the one who raised me, will mourn and love me. For six days at least.
*~*
I never liked the smell of blood. It reminds me of the Cruciatus curse and my parents sacrifice for me. It's funny actually; I've never smelt blood at Hogwarts before now. The stench seems to grow stronger as I near the Girls Bathroom on the Second floor. Trickles of a thick red substance flow under the heavy oak door in a tiny constant stream. Then it hits me. The smell of blood, red substance flowing across the floor. Taking a deep breath I push the heavy door and enter the bathroom, sterile, clean, and surprisingly empty, I note. Then I see him, Draco Malfoy, sprawled on the floor unconscious, his wrists cut in large vertical slashes, lying in a pool of his own bright red blood. I can't think, I can breath I feel helpless and frozen, its like the war all over again, so I do what I, the cowardly brat did so many times during the battles, I cry for help.
*~*
Ron, that's another thing that bothers me. His betrayal seems so eerie, so unlike him. Maybe his jealously was really that deep. Maybe he hated not being in the spotlight that much. I just can't help but think that even with all solid evidence pointing towards his betrayal that maybe he was like Sirius, in a way. Good Lord, Moaning Myrtle is at it again, I have a right mind to go throw one of Hermione's books at her. Funny though, it doesn't really sound like Myrtle. Oh gods I bet its Gwen. What! Malfoy and Neville! Why is Malfoy lying in a pool of blood? Oh God I don't even care. It may be Malfoy but he's still dying. Oh I wish Neville weren't so useless. Malfoy is a load of bones. Only a little further, there. What does Pomfrey mean by what have you done this time! Must I be blamed for everything? Urgh! I might as well leave, Malfoy doesn't concern me. What's that? Oh Gwen, why can't you see the fault in Ron? Even lying there unconscious he's hurting you. All those bruises aren't yours. Why can't things be simple, black and white why must it all be so complicated and gray?
*~*
Damn Parvati! She could be a veela with all that bloody charm. Seamus, she says, I haven't seen Hermione since Dinner last night and I'm worried, please go look for her. Then as if to seal the deal she bats those full lashes and blows me a kiss. So here I am looking for Hermione Granger, who, as I have learned in the past few days, is bloody wonderful at hide and seek. I've never realized how large the library is until now. I think I've looked just about everywhere and have yet to see even a hair off her bushy head. Oh, there she is. If I had a Knut for every time I've found her asleep on one of her bloody books in the past week I'd be a very rich man. Hermione, oh don't do this, I don't have all bloody day. Hermione. for the love of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She's screamed that bloody traitor's name again. Just let the poor fool die!